


Predators

by lavieboheme0919



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adopted Stiles, Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Barebacking, Bonding, Dark, Dark Comedy, Deceased Sheriff Stilinski, Family Secrets, Guns, Hale Arson Conspiracy, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, Hunter Training, Knives, M/M, Murder, On the Run, Police Officer Derek, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Rites of Passage, Sassy Stiles, Serial Killer Stiles, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is an Argent, Vendettas, baseball bat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:13:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1701059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavieboheme0919/pseuds/lavieboheme0919
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his parents died, Stiles was adopted by the Argent family and raised to be a Hunter. The night of his first solo hunt, he discovers his target, Derek Hale, is innocent of the crime he's been accused of. Stiles kills a local gang member instead and realizes he loves killing. A chance encounter with another Hunter forces Derek and Stiles to become tense and unlikely allies as they try to survive and escape a group of Hunters who want them both dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Truth and Justice

One hand lightly gripped the wheel of the light-blue jeep; the other reached through the window and tapped the side in tune to the music emanating loudly from the speakers. The sun shone brightly and the cool breeze made Stiles think that nothing would be able to turn this day for the worse. He was heading home after a few weeks of training with another Hunter family from Nevada. He'd never made the trek himself… he'd always been with his adoptive family, which is why he didn't see that he'd missed his exit until the sign was passing by his passenger-side window. "Fuck!" he exclaimed. He had no idea how far the next exit was and he really just wanted to talk to his sister, Allison, and tell her all of the interesting information he learned.

He saw an upcoming break in the median that was only supposed to be used for police, but he didn't see any police around so he started applying pressure to the break and soon was heading back toward the exit.

Nearly instantly, red and blue lights were flashing behind him. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he growled as he pulled over. Stiles looked in his rearview as the officer got out of the car and approached him. "Can I help you, officer?"

"Do you know why I pulled you over?" the officer asked.

Stiles always knew he had a certain sarcastic charm, unfortunately he didn't know he was about to use it on the wrong person. "Because you're some sort of inconvenience fairy and through an unknown ritual, I mistakenly summoned you?"

The officer's face retained a vague look of annoyance. "Actually you make an illegal U-Turn in an area marked for official use only."

Stiles tried yet again, "Well, officer, I had  _officially_  missed my exit and needed to turn around."

"There was another exit two miles up… you could have turned there. I'm going to need to cite you. Can I have your license and registration?" the officer said, still making no indication he got any amusement from Stiles' quip.

Stiles mumbled a few words of profanity under his breath and reached into his wallet, grabbing his license, before leaning over and taking the insurance and registration information from the glove compartment.

The deputy looked at the license and furrowed his brow. "Stilinski… you're the former Sheriff's son aren't you?"

"Yeah," Stiles replied.

"Your dad hired me. I really respected him. I actually cried when I found out…" the deputy trailed off, realizing the young man might not want to hear that. He handed the paperwork back to Stiles and scribbled something onto a pad. "I'm going to give you a warning this time…"

Stiles was shocked. He was almost certain he would be driving away with a ticket. "Uh thank you, officer. I didn't catch your name…"

The officer reached out his hand, "I'm Derek Hale."

Stiles shook the officer's hand and thanked him again. He knew the Hale name very well. In fact, while he was thankful for the warning, he was instantly suspicious of the officer because there was only one Hale family in Beacon Hills… and they were a born enemy of his own.

"Thanks again," Stiles said as the officer returned to his car. Stiles drove off, now needing to talk to his adoptive parents in addition to his sister.

It wasn't too long until Stiles pulled into the drive way of the Argent house. Allison was the first to greet him. "How did it go?" she asked, hugging him.

"It was great! I think I'll be pretty well-prepared for my first Hunt," Stiles said. "Speaking of… where's your mom?"

"Legally speaking, she's your mom, too!" Allison reminded him.

"I know," Stiles said. Allison just didn't understand how he couldn't transfer the title "Mom" from the woman who gave birth to him, whom he loved… whom he sat beside while she was in the hospital dying of a degenerative disease, to Victoria. Chris and Victoria understood it and while they treated him like he was their own, they always permitted him to call them "Chris" and "Victoria".

"She's in the kitchen preparing your welcome home dinner," Allison said. "Dad is in the garage with Aunt Kate."

"Cool," Stiles replied. He brought his luggage back up to his room. It wasn't long before Victoria joined him.

"Which weapon did you choose?" she asked.

Stiles always appreciated Victoria's no-nonsense demeanor. "The guns were awesome… but I really enjoyed the knives," Stiles said.

"Those were always my favorite," Victoria told him. "Allison mentioned you wanted to talk to me."

"Yeah," Stiles replied. "I got pulled over today."

Victoria made no attempt to hide her dismay at this news. "How much is the ticket?"

"The officer didn't write one. Just gave me a warning," Stiles said. "But the officer who pulled me over is a member of the Hale family."

"That's impossible," she said. "The Hale family died in a fire years ago."

"I remember my dad investigated it… but apparently at least one of them survived," Stiles said.

"Well… Chris is going to want to go by the Code," Victoria replied. "Until we have a reason to exterminate him, we'll leave him alone."

"I'll go talk to him about it," Stiles said.

"Alright," Victoria replied. "Dinner will be finished soon."

They both made their way downstairs, but diverted with Victoria leaving to go finish dinner and Stiles going into the garage where Chris and Kate were cleaning weapons. "Welcome back, kiddo!" Kate exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. The Argent Crest medallion hung elegantly around her neck.

"What weapon did you choose?" Chris asked.

"Knives," Stiles replied.

"Very sharp choice," Kate commented.

Chris and Stiles both cast her judgmental glances. "So I got pulled over by Deputy Derek Hale today…"

Chris and Kate exchanged glances. "The Hales died in a fire years ago," Kate said. "Our family was implicated in it."

"But it wasn't true!" Chris added. "We had no quarrel with Talia or any of her Betas."

"Who is Talia?" Stiles asked.

"She was Derek's mother. She was also a leader among werewolves. We had a tentative peace between our family and hers," Chris explained.

"Well, I figured you might want to know… we have active werewolves in the area," Stiles clarified.

"Thanks for letting me know… but we follow the Code," he said.

" _Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent,_ " Stiles recited. "We don't hunt kids; we only hunt those who we can prove are guilty."

Kate smiled. "Pretty soon you'll go on your First Hunt and forge your Silver Bullet," she told him. "We're proud of you, Stiles."

"Any idea who I'm hunting?" Stiles asked.

"Patience, Stiles… there are still a few weeks," Kate laughed. "But we have no doubt that you'll do great."

Victoria announced that dinner was done and they all filed into the dining room where Allison was putting the last touches on the place settings. She grinned at Stiles. All of his favorites were on display. Stiles took his seat next to her. Chris sat at the head of the table, Victoria at the opposite end. Kate decided to sit across from her niece. Being that this was the first meal Stiles didn't have to kill and cook by himself in a while, he scarfed it down and headed upstairs after dinner, anxious to sleep in his own bed.

* * *

The weeks passed slowly, but finally it was his night. The full moon shone brightly and he had his target: Officer Derek Hale. "Are you sure?" Stiles asked as Kate handed him the assignment.

"He has red eyes now, but before that they were blue. You know what that means," Kate replied. "He's gotta go. Good luck kiddo."

"If you need help, call us on the radio… but you need to make the kill yourself. Bring back his heart as evidence," Victoria said. That had become the Argent's calling card to the werewolf community. That and silver bullets they liked to put through werewolves heads. Stiles thought about the way he'd design his after he handed Derek's heart to Chris and Victoria.

As he headed out into the woods where he knew the deputy would be frolicking—or whatever the hell it was werewolves did on full moons—his eyes could see barely anything, but his ears picked up all the sounds of the night. There was an Alpha werewolf nearby for sure. No animals could be heard whatsoever. Looking around, Stiles realized he was not too far from the burned-out shell of the former Hale mansion. Or did werewolves refer to it as a den? He decided to check there.

The werewolf was definitely light on his feet. The tracks he left were shallow. There was barely any impression, making it incredibly hard to follow his movements in the dark. Stiles kept one hand on his gun, another on his knives.

He was proud of his collection of throwing knives. He designed them himself. There were six of them. They were perfectly balanced, with handles of Rowan wood, polished so smooth that they felt like glass. The metal was infused with a potent combination of oils derived from several of the deadliest known strains of wolfs bane. Stiles added a hint of belladonna for flair. No werewolf would be able to survive being stabbed with those blades.

The wood creaked as he stepped onto the front porch of the house. The door was wide open. Stiles looked at the handle, someone had been there recently. "Come here, doggy," Stiles taunted into the darkness. "I've got a milk bone." From atop the set of stairs, a pair of bright red eyes peered down to him threateningly. "Ah… there you are."

"If you leave now, I won't kill you," the Alpha said ominously.

"Are you Derek Hale?" Stiles asked.

"I am," the voice replied.

Stiles smirked, quickly aiming his gun and fired three times. The roar he heard told him one of the bullets hit its target. It thrilled him to know he'd managed to injure such a powerful creature. It turned him on to have such power over life and death.

He slunk upstairs to see how badly he'd hurt the werewolf before he finally put it out of its misery. "You know the real color of my eyes, don't you?" the werewolf asked, moving away, toppling things to try and put some barrier between them.

"Why do you think I'm here?" Stiles replied, aiming his gun at the beast's head.

"Before you kill me, you need to know  _why_  my eyes are really blue," Derek said.

There was no way he was going to get out of this, so Stiles nodded. "That doesn't mean that I won't still blow your brains out after."

"I was young. I fell in love. Her name was Paige," Derek said, scooting so that he could lean against a wall for support. Stiles' gun remained steadily pointed at the spot between the alpha's prominent eyebrows. "My uncle, Peter, told me I should have her bitten and bring her into the pack. My mom wouldn't bite her, though. Not without her consent. I just didn't want to scare her away by telling her what I was."

"Is there a point to this rambling or are you trying to bore me to death?" Stiles asked, feigning a yawn as he pulled out one of his knives and held it to Derek's throat.

"Yes," Derek said grumpily, insulted by the interruption. "My uncle asked a different Alpha to bite her… Ennis. He did. Only the bite didn't work. Her body rejected it and she was dying. I could feel how much agony she was in. She asked me to make the pain go away. I did the only compassionate thing I could do in that situation. I kissed her and held her closely before running her through with my claws."

Stiles slowly retracted the knife. "You killed out of mercy."

"Yes," Derek replied. "And I have only killed one time since. I killed my uncle when he became a threat to the people of Beacon Hills. He was an Alpha when I killed him, which meant that I became one."

"I can't believe I'm doing this… I'm letting a fucking werewolf live…" Stiles muttered.

"You're not going to kill me?" Derek asked.

"Not today," Stiles replied. "But if you want to keep it that way, I need you to help me cover this up."

"How?" Derek asked.

"I need to bring back a heart," Stiles replied. "Help me find someone and use your police knowledge to cover it up."

"You fucking hunters are out of your God damned minds!" Derek said, his eyes glowing in his disgust. "Do you have  _any_  respect for life?"

"That's rich… coming from the formerly blue-eyed werewolf who euthanized his girlfriend. I'm sorry… but isn't it usually the  _humans_  who put the  _dogs_  down?" Stiles chided.

Derek snarled. "We're predators. That doesn't mean we have to be killers. What I did was to prevent someone I loved from dying a painful death. What excuse do the Argents have for seducing a 17 year old boy and then burning his entire family on our packs' biggest holiday? How did they explain to you the logic of slaughtering innocent human children?"

"You're lying. The Argents had nothing to do with that!" Stiles yelled. He raised his gun, ready to retract his peace offering. "We follow the Code.  _I_ follow the Code!"

"Yeah?" Derek asked, stepping forward so that the barrel of the gun was poking into his chest. "How about that dear Aunt Kate of yours? Or the little goons you've come to know as friends of the family? Do they follow that little Code of yours?"

"The quicker you help me cover this up, the sooner you can leave this town with your torso still attached to your legs and your heart in your chest," Stiles said. "Because believe me… if they think you're still alive, they're going to kill us both."

Derek sighed. He knew how relentless and ruthless the Argent family could be. He had respected Sheriff Stilinski so much. He hated how they'd twisted his son into the monster in front of him. "Fine," Derek said. "I know of a few drug dealers in the bad part of town. We're pretty sure one of them is responsible for a murder that went down last year; we just weren't able to find enough evidence to bring him in. His victim deserves justice. You can use him. We can make it look like drug-related violence. They'll never trace you to the crime."

Stiles smirked. "Then lead the way… hound."

Stiles' jeep was too recognizable by the Hunters. They were all over the city, ready to help at a moment's notice. Tonight was Stiles' Hunting equivalent to a Bar Mitzvah. And there wasn't a Hunter alive who didn't want to see the last of the Hales with a bullet in his head, his body cut in half, and his heart ripped out of his chest. Stiles was included. Derek exuded a holier-than-thou morality that drove Stiles nuts. He was a fucking werewolf. They were incapable of morality. He was nothing more than a beast that could be put down the moment he ceased to be useful. Luckily, Derek owned a Camaro that would allow them to perform their task with minimal risk of getting caught by stray Hunters.

Stiles had never even seen this part of town. He had no idea it existed. The car stopped in an area filled with warehouses. "His name is Francisco Morales. Although here, he's more commonly referred to as 'Magnum,'" Derek told him.

Chris was a licensed Arms trader. It made it easy to explain the arsenal the Argent family had at their disposal for when they needed to kill werewolves. "Like the gun?" Stiles asked.

Derek chuckled. "Actually no… like the condom."

Stiles got out of the car, ready to make his kill. He knew how to take down werewolves. A small-time gang banger who drew his name from a prophylactic would be an easy kill by his reckoning.

Derek slowly followed as Stiles put one hand on his gun, the other on a knife. "Deténganse, pendejos!" came a man's voice. Stiles never paid too much attention in Spanish but he knew exactly how to tell where the voice had originated. He fired one shot. A scream could be heard. Stiles grinned.

Twirling the knife around his index finger, he slowly approached. "¿Habla inglés?" Stiles asked. Magnum nodded. "Alright. My Spanish fucking sucks." Derek got closer. "We're going to play a little game. I'm going to ask you questions. You're going to answer me. This guy is going to listen to your heartbeat. He'll be able to tell if you're lying. If you lie, I'll kill you. If you're telling the truth there's a small chance you might survive. Do you understand?"

Magnum nodded.

"Do you sell drugs?" Stiles asked.

"I plead the fifth," Magnum replied.

"That's not an option that will keep you breathing for very long," Stiles replied, waving his finger in the drug dealer's face. "Answer the question."

"Yes," Magnum gulped. Stiles glanced over at Derek who nodded that his response was the truth.

"Did you kill someone last year?" Stiles decided to cut straight to the chase.

"No," Magnum replied.

Stiles glanced over to Derek who shook his head. "Oh that was the wrong answer. Thanks for playing." Stiles twirled the knife in front of the dealer's face before slicing his throat. It was clinical and fast, nicking the jugular in a way that Stiles was certain would cause a fast death. Stiles backed up, not wanting to be hit by the arterial spray. When Magnum had finally bled out, Stiles used his knife to cut open his shirt before slicing into his torso. "The rib cage evolved to protect the lungs and heart from impact and injury," Stiles said, exposing the bone. "Unfortunately, the design has one minor flaw. You can go underneath the cage to pull out whichever organs you want." Stiles reached into Magnum's torso, his hands becoming covered with warm blood as he fished around for the organ he needed. He didn't try to hide the rush he was getting from this. He knew Derek could probably smell the excitement rolling off him with every breath. He had taken a life. And he loved it. As he found the heart, he put his other hand inside, cutting it loose. He pulled it out, gazing at it, completely awestruck. This rush was better than anything he'd ever felt before and he wanted to feel it again.

He considered going ahead and taking the life of the werewolf standing behind him. One good stab with the knife would be enough to fell him. He didn't have the time, however.

"Stiles?" a familiar voice called.

"Fuck," Stiles muttered. That was Tyhurst. He was one of the Hunters stationed to help him.

"Stiles what are you doing?" Tyhurst demanded.

"Taking care of a loose end," Stiles replied, holding the heart in front of him.

"That's not the heart you were assigned to cut out," Tyhurst said. He pointed a crossbow at Derek. "His was."

"I'm getting to that," Stiles replied. Derek shifted uncomfortably. He hated being around Hunters. With good reason. "Listen… do you know anything about the Hale arson?"

Tyhurst grinned. "Yeah. I know about it."

"What do you know?" Stiles asked.

"Why?"

Stiles pointed at Derek. "What? Do you want this mutt do die with any ambiguity as to who put down that fucking den of monsters he called a family?"

Tyhurst's grin evolved into a chuckle. "Yeah. You're right. Me, Kate, and another guy surrounded the house with a line of mountain ash and then burned that fucking house to the ground. You should have heard them screaming." Derek shifted, growling angrily. It was all he could do to prevent himself from shaking with rage. He couldn't believe he'd allowed himself to be tricked by the Argents again.

"And had they done anything to deserve being exterminated?" Stiles asked.

Tyhurst laughed. "They were fucking born."

That was all the information Stiles needed. He took the Code very seriously. "Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent," Stiles said.

"Only Chris really clings to that old code anymore," Tyhurst said. "I prefer the new Code that Kate wants to enforce: 'We hunt those who aren't like us.' Let's take him out together."

"Sorry, Ty," Stiles replied. "I've got to do this on my own." He raised his gun, turning around to Derek.

"I should have ripped out your fucking throat the moment you showed up in my house," Derek growled.

Stiles shot him an imperious look before whipping back around and flinging two knives. One struck him in the throat, the other in his eye. The poisons began acting immediately. In mere moments, Tyhurst was dead. He felt the rush flow back through him as he walked over, retrieving his knives. "We need to leave," Stiles told Derek as he calmly used Ty's shirt to wipe the blood off his blades before returning them to the holster he wore on his chest.

"Why did you kill him?" Derek asked. "And why would I go anywhere with you?"

"Because he broke the Code," Stiles replied. "And because we just made enemies of the Argents. I just killed an old family friend and they're going to have to explain that away. I can't go home… and you can't show your face around here. We need to run."

Derek stepped forward, wrapping his claws around Stiles' thin neck. "You're a fucking Hunter. Why would I protect you?"

"Because you cared about my father," Stiles replied. He knew that was the one way to control Derek. He grabbed a knife, touching the Rowan handle to the arm that was holding his neck. Derek yelped in pain, reflexively withdrawing his hand. "I won't kill you if you help protect me from them. And I was trained by them… so I can tell you exactly how they'll come after us. They will cut us both in half if they catch us."

"I was born a werewolf. I was taught my entire life how to run from them. It seems to me that it'd be easier to just bite you and let you kill yourself, per the Code," Derek said.

"Being a born werewolf didn't help when Kate was seducing you before she burned your family and your home into cinders," Stiles said coldly. "And it's not going to help you now. We need each other."

Derek glared at him. He didn't like anything about this. "If I think for even just one moment that you might turn on me, I will kill you. I'll be damned if I'm going to put a Hunter's life before mine. Do you understand?"

Stiles merely laughed. "It's adorable that you think that threat has the slightest effect on me."

"Get in the fucking car," Derek growled as he shifted back, heading toward the Camaro. They had a lot of driving to do. Stiles pulled out his phone as they sped down the highway. Derek reached over and grabbed it, tossing it out the window. "Cell phones have GPS, you idiot."

"That phone had Flappy Bird on it, you asshole!" Stiles yelled. "I should shove wolfs bane down your throat for that!"

"Then get a new phone and download it again!" Derek said.

"You can't download it again! They took it off the app markets!" Stiles grumbled. "I had the second highest score in the worldwide leader boards."

"Where are we going?" Stiles asked.

"Does it matter?"

"Since you just threw my only form of entertainment out the window, yeah, it does," Stiles replied.

Derek reached over, "Go to sleep," he said, grabbing Stiles' hair and forcing his head into the dashboard just hard enough to knock him out. He knew Stiles would be pissed when he woke up, but at least for now, he had some peace and quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I've had this lying around for a while and was waiting to publish it until I finished Fast Times at Beacon Hills Academy. This story is going to be a little dark, but it's going to be a fun, snarky, murderous ride. Let me know what you thought of the first chapter!


	2. Lessons Taught, But Not Learned

When Stiles awoke, he was angry. He was furious. "Pull over," he ordered as he looked around.

"We're in the middle of nowhere," Derek replied. "No."

"I won't ask you again," Stiles replied. "Pull over. Now."

"Fine," Derek growled, applying pressure to the brake as the car slowed to a stop. He put on his flashing lights. "What?"

More quickly than most humans moved, Stiles jammed the Rowan end of one of his knives against Derek's throat. There was a flash of blue as the wood tried to repel Derek, but Stiles held it steady. Derek roared in pain, paralyzed by the magic within the wood. "If you ever try to render me unconscious again, I will not hesitate to use the other side of this knife. Do you understand?"

Derek nodded as best he could and Stiles returned the knife to its sheath on his chest. He knew that if he retaliated in any threatening way, Stiles would likely just stab him with the blade. "I shouldn't have knocked you out," Derek ceded. "I'm sorry."

"Fucking right you are," Stiles replied moodily. "Is it werewolf instinct to just render people unconscious?"

"I don't know," Derek replied tersely. "Is it Hunter instinct to just kill anyone who isn't human?"

Stiles' nostrils flared and his hand returned to the knife. "I follow the Code! That's the only reason you're still alive and we're on the run."

They rode in silence until Stiles saw the gas light blink on. "There's a town not too far. We'll stop, fill up the car, and grab some food," Derek said. Soon, they were passing a sign that said "Pendleton, Oregon".

"We're in Oregon?" Stiles asked.

"Did I hit you so hard you lost the ability to read?"

Stiles felt anxious. He wanted to feel the rush he felt when he killed Magnum and Tyhurst. Derek pulled into a gas station and filled up his car as Stiles waited in the passenger seat. They quickly found a Denny's and headed in. Their waitress was a young and entirely too perky girl named Lana. "I'll be your waitress," she said. "Can we get you some coffee?"

Stiles shook his head. He was hyper enough without coffee. Derek passed, too, deciding on a glass of water. She flashed them a smile and flounced off, grabbing two waters and giving them a chance to look at the selection of food. "I think you might be out of luck," Stiles said, quickly thumbing through the plastic-coated menu.

"What do you mean?" Derek asked.

"I don't see kibble anywhere on here and I've never allowed my dogs to eat people food," Stiles quipped.

"Is this because I threw away your phone?" Derek asked, clearly unamused.

"No," Stiles replied. "That was because you're a werewolf."

Derek snarled. "Keep your voice down!"

"Or what?"

"Look," Derek said. "You need me a hell of a lot more than I need you."

Stiles snorted as Lana returned with their waters. Derek popped a straw into his and took a sip. "Are you sure you don't want a bowl to lap it out of?"

"That's it!" Derek snapped, slamming his fist onto the table loud enough to draw the attention of nearby diners. "I'm sick of you making dog jokes."

"I'm not going to stop," Stiles said. "They're fucking funny."

"If you don't, I will rip out your throat with my teeth," Derek growled so low that only Stiles could hear it.

"It will be really difficult to do that with your head blown clear off your body," Stiles replied. "Don't fuck with me, wolf-boy. I don't know how many times I need to keep telling you that."

The waitress returned and took their food orders before Stiles excused himself to the restroom. As he stood over the sink, he splashed some water on his face. An attractive man walked in behind him. "Long night?" he asked.

"Yeah," Stiles replied.

"Traveling through?"

"Yeah," Stiles repeated. He still felt drained. Again, he knew he needed that rush he felt from killing. "What about you?"

"Yeah. I stopped for food. I'm heading down to Sacramento," he replied before resuming the universal code that prohibited communication in a men's restroom.

Once the man was washing his hands, Stiles decided to make his move. "My car has been making a funny noise. Do you know anything about cars? I'm heading up to Seattle. I want to know if I should get it fixed while I'm stopped or if I can make it the rest of the way."

"Sure!" the man replied, flashing a friendly smile. Stiles led him out to the parking lot, heading toward Derek's car. "Oh, a Camaro. Nice."

"Yeah," Stiles replied. "Birthday present."

"Well if you'll just pop the hood and crank her on we'll figure out what's going on," the man said.

Stiles realized the flaw in his plan. Derek had the keys. He decided to work this to his advantage. As a Hunter, he often needed to think on his feet. He patted himself and feigned an exasperated look. "I'm sorry. I walked all the way out here without my keys."

"That's alright," the man replied. "How about I bend you across the hood and we test your suspension?"

Stiles didn't expect him to be so forward. "I'm sorry?"

The man stepped forward, closing all distance between their bodies. He kissed Stiles, who stood there somewhat in shock. "I don't think I stuttered."

"I'm sorry," Stiles said. "I think I may have sent you the wrong message."

"I don't think you did," the man said, squeezing his hand around something hard hidden deep in Stiles' pants.

Stiles chuckled before leaning forward, whispering into the man's ear, "That's not my dick…" He pulled the gun from its hiding place. He held it to the man's head. "Isn't this a funny turn of events. You came out here to rape me and I came out here to murder you. It looks like one of us is going to get our wish. Too bad for you, though."

"It's not like that," the man said, his voice shaking as he trembled. "I just thought you were cute, is all. I figured I'd put the moves on you."

"And if I said no, you were planning on stopping, right?"

The man didn't respond, he just began to cry. "I'm sorry, man…" he said finally.

"I'm not," Stiles replied. He grabbed one of his knives from the holster under his shirt. "I designed these knives myself. The blades are poisonous. Mostly to werewolves… but you don't have to worry about it because I'm going to be killing you before the poisons can take effect."

"Why are you doing this?" the man whimpered.

"Because you never learned the lesson that if someone says 'no' then you stop," Stiles replied. "Take off your shirt."

The man shuddered more violently as he unbuttoned the dress shirt and tossed it on the ground.

"Were you raised in a barn? That looks like it was expensive… and it's my size. Fold it neatly and lay it on the hood," Stiles ordered.

He again obeyed. "Please don't kill me," he begged.

"What's your name?"

"Justin," the man gulped as Stiles put the blade to his neck.

"Well, Justin," Stiles said. "You're really hot. I would have possibly even said yes. Actually no I wouldn't. I shouldn't let you die after giving you false hope. I don't have sex with sleazy assholes. So tell me, Justin… which organ have you always wanted to see in person?" Justin peed himself. "That's disgusting…"

"Stiles! What are you doing?" Derek's voice called from across the parking lot.

"Teaching a lesson," Stiles replied. "Wanna watch?"

"Let him go," Derek commanded.

"But I can't… Mostly on principle at this point… but also because I told him about werewolves existing," Stiles said, plunging the knife into Justin's gut, moving it down, slicing open his abdomen.

"NO!" Derek cried as Justin fell backwards onto the pavement, clutching his stomach as blood poured out of him. Stiles reached his hand into Justin's abdomen. He fished around until he found the heart that was still beating in his chest, though at a much slower rate. Using his other hand, he cut the major blood vessels around it and pulled it out. Derek fell to his knees, taking in the sight before him. "Stiles… you didn't have to kill him!"

"But I did," Stiles replied. "I keep getting this urge to kill. It just so happened that he was going to try to rape me if I didn't kill him, so in this case, I think it worked out for the better."

"But what about when the person is completely innocent?" Derek asked, horrified by Stiles' rationale.

"Nobody's ever completely innocent, Derek," Stiles replied.

"I was afraid this would happen," Derek whispered.

"What?"

"When a werewolf kills someone, it changes us… forever. You can see the difference in their eyes. It's there for everyone to see that this person is a killer. The same can be said for humans. Your eyes may not change color, but it's there… I can see it. I saw it the moment you killed Magnum," Derek said.

"We're not that different, you and I," Stiles said. "We're both monsters in our own way. The only difference, really, is that I wasn't born one."

"Neither was I," Derek replied. "You're a predator. I get that… believe me, I do. You've been trained to hunt and that's something you're great at. But just because you're a predator doesn't mean you have to be a killer. Your father died trying to protect life. He died in an attempt to do something good. Don't ruin that legacy, Stiles. Please…"

At the mention of his father, Stiles began to cry. "Don't talk about him to me! He shouldn't have died at all! He should have thought about the fact that I was still at home waiting for him to come pick me up so we could go get dinner. He shouldn't have run into that house! Do you want to know the legacy he left me? The lesson I learned from that? No matter what good you think you might be able to accomplish, you're going to cause someone complete agony. Nothing good can ever happen without it bringing misery and pain."

"Your father was a hero," Derek said.

"SHUT UP!" Stiles screamed. "Don't you think I've heard that line a million times? Don't you think I heard it enough at his funeral to never need to hear it again? My father was a hero to some random kid who was too dumb to duck and hide when the gunmen entered his house. He left me alone. The Argents are the ones who trained me to use my anger and my pain to do something useful. They didn't abandon me."

"Then why are we all the way in Oregon trying to escape them?"

Stiles froze. He didn't have an answer for that.

Derek realized he might have gotten through and took it as a small victory. He opened the trunk of his car. There was a tarp in it, folded neatly against the back seats. He grabbed it and unfolded it, rolling Justin's corpse onto it and wrapping it up. "Help me lift this in here."

Stiles did. Derek drove them to a deserted area in the mountains and they dumped the body. Stiles wanted to keep the heart as a trophy, but Derek refused. Stiles begrudgingly left it as a marker for the man's tomb, knowing a wild animal would soon be by to devour it.

They drove through several towns before Derek finally pulled into a ratty motel. Stiles was used to no-frills camping, and even then, this seemed inhumane. As they approached the front desk, the receptionist asked if they'd need one bed or two.

"One," Stiles replied.

"Uh no… two," Derek corrected.

"It's a waste of twenty bucks. Save that for gas… or food. I promise I won't jump you in your sleep…" Stiles said.

Derek rolled his eyes and conceded. He signed where he needed to and took the key cards, leading Stiles to the room. Stiles immediately jumped onto the bed, spreading his legs and arms in such a fashion that there was no room left for Derek. "And where the fuck am I supposed to sleep?"

"I figured you could just take the comforter, scratch at it for a few minutes, turn around four times and fall asleep," Stiles replied with a sideways smirk.

"Just move over, Stiles… I'm exhausted," Derek said, pushing Stiles' slender frame out of the way. "Feel free to use the covers. I don't get cold."

Stiles quickly crawled beneath the blankets and turned his back to Derek. After a few moments of silence passed, Stiles finally spoke. "Thanks for helping me cover up the murders."

"You're welcome," Derek said. "Now go to sleep."

"Sure…" Stiles said. He waited several minutes before speaking again. "Hey Derek?"

"What?"

"Can I ask one favor?"

"Sure."

"Make sure you don't give me fleas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Sorry this chapter is shorter than the last... I just thought that was a good place to end it. The next chapter will be longer, I swear! Anywho... let me know what you thought!


	3. Honesty Isn't Always the Best Policy

Derek stood angrily in the shadows of the trees as he watched Stiles dig the hole in which they buried yet another one of Stiles' victims. He didn't waste his time or his breath on speeches about morality or anything like that. He could barely even look at Stiles without feeling disgust. Stiles' kill list was now up to five. It was forcing them to move faster than Derek intended and was burning through money faster than he ever believed possible.

He cringed at the sound the woman's body made as it fell into the shallow grave. "This would go a whole lot faster if you'd help, you know," Stiles said as he began the task of filling in the hole with the large mound of dirt.

"This wouldn't even be necessary if you didn't kill people in every city we stop in!" Derek replied. "I'd ask what the fuck is wrong with you, but at this point, it's almost stupid to even wonder."

"Because I'm a Hunter?" Stiles asked, his voice carrying a dangerous edge.

"Actually no," Derek said. "Because you're a fucking psychopath."

Stiles made a fake-laugh sound and said, "I guess I just didn't have a strong parental influence to guide me away from shit like this."

Derek sighed. "You think this is funny, but how funny do you think this will be to her kids? Or her parents and siblings?"

"Don't you think that if I cared, I might not have killed her?" Stiles said.

The frustration was etched into Derek's face in a way that looked almost permanent. "I understand why you killed Tyhurst. I even understand why you killed that asshole at the Denny's. But the dude at the hotel? This woman? What the hell did they ever do?"

Stiles didn't answer until the grave was filled in and he'd scattered debris over it, completely covering it with a thick layer of leaves. "When I killed Magnum, I got this rush… I felt it again when I killed Tyhurst. Then after that faded, I felt fine for a while. But then I got this urge to kill. It felt like if I didn't kill the next person I saw, I'd literally implode. The guy at the Denny's was the first person I saw after I got the urge to kill. It just so happened he wanted to rape me. That was a complete coincidence."

"Are you saying you can't help it?" Derek asked.

"I'm saying I don't want to help it," Stiles clarified. "I like killing. I love the way it feels to take a life. That power… that rush… it's better than sex."

"If you want a rush, go for drugs! Then at least that way, there's a chance you'll overdose," Derek replied.

"Did I just get told to take drugs by a sheriff's deputy?" Stiles asked. "What is this world coming to?"

"I'm not going to continue helping you with this," Derek warned.

"I just dug and filled that grave by myself. You didn't help me at all!" Stiles said. "You just stood there like a useless werewolf…"

Derek growled.

"What's the matter? Not a fan of redundancies?"

"I'm not a fan of murder," Derek replied. "I'm even less a fan of being an accomplice."

"But you're not an accomplice! You just sit around judging me!" Stiles said. "You literally do  _nothing_  to help."

Derek's eyes turned Alpha red. Stiles grabbed his dagger. "If you want to keep killing, I will no longer offer you my protection."

Stiles chuckled. "How many times do I need to tell you that I don't need your protection?"

"You're just a kid, Stiles!" Derek said. "You need  _someone_."

"That doesn't mean I need you!" Stiles argued. "Why are you really here? And don't give me any bullshit about my dad."

Derek knew that right this moment wasn't the time to tell Stiles the truth.

* * *

Kate knocked quietly on the door frame. Allison was curled up on Stiles' bed, hugging his pillow to her chest. She missed her brother. She hoped that at any moment, Stiles would burst in and act like he was annoyed she went into his room before they both started laughing and hugged it out. Moving from town to town had been difficult as she grew up. She always wanted a brother or a sister and she cursed the universe that the only one she ever got had been taken from her.

She felt her aunt's arms wrap around her as Kate climbed into the bed next to her niece. "If he's alive, we'll find him, Allison. We'll bring him home."

"He tried to attack Derek Hale and went missing!" Allison replied. "He's dead. Do you really think that Derek would let one of us live? Why did you even give him that assignment? There were plenty of other werewolves he could have taken out. Why did it have to be that fucking Hale?"

"The Hales and the Argents go a long way back, kiddo," Kate said, tucking Allison's silky brown hair behind her ear and placing a gentle kiss on her temple. "None of us expected Derek to realize that Stiles was actually one of us."

"It's just not fair," Allison wept. "He's already lost so much…"

"I know, sweetie," Kate cooed. "But you've got to pull yourself together. In the Hunting world, the women lead. You need to look at this—"

"Clinically," Allison cut her aunt off. "I know. But he was more than just my brother. He was my best friend."

"I get that," Kate said. "Believe me… me and your dad… We were like this." She crossed her fingers to show Allison. "But if I thought a werewolf had done to him what Derek has done to Stiles, I wouldn't sit around and cry about it. I'd go downstairs and dig through the arsenal until I found the weapon that would provide the slowest, most painful possible death. Then I'd make sure that Derek Hale felt every agonizing second of it." Kate then kissed her niece one last time before climbing off the bed, leaving her words to sink in.

She took the stairs two steps at a time, heading straight into the garage. Chris happened to notice and followed her. "What are you doing up so late?" he asked.

"Allison was upset about Stiles," Kate said. "I was trying to console her."

"She's in Stiles' room," Chris said. "You're in the garage."

"How observant you are, Chris," Kate chided. "Those skills must come in very handy on Hunts. But if you must know, I'm tired of standing helplessly around here when I could be trying to find Stiles."

"We're going to wait until Dad gets here," Chris said. "Then we're going to fry Derek until he tells us where Stiles is."

"And what if Stiles is already dead?" Kate asked. "He would have called us by now."

Chris shook his head, staring off into space. He considered Stiles his son and he missed his son very badly. But he knew that going off half-blind in grief and rage would do nothing but endanger even more members of his family. "Get some sleep, Kate. Dad should be here in the next few days. We'll regroup and we'll take out Derek and hopefully get Stiles back."

"It does nobody any favors to pretend that Stiles is still alive," Kate said. "The sooner we come to accept it, the easier it will be for all of us. I'm grieving for my nephew."

"And I'm grieving for my son!" Chris shouted. "But I refuse to do anything that will mean I'll have to grieve for anyone else I love!"

Kate pulled out her favorite shotgun. "We all grieve in different ways." She put some bullets in the chamber and polished a smudge on the barrel. "You may prefer to sit around the house crying. I find it much more cathartic to hunt." She jerked the gun and it closed with a powerful click for emphasis.

* * *

Seattle lived up to every stereotype Stiles had ever heard. It was cold, it was rainy, and it was miserable. Derek was busy scowling as Stiles perused a sporting goods store. "What are we even doing here?"

Stiles finally found the baseball bats and was busy testing their weights in his hand. "Aluminum or wood?" he asked, ignoring Derek's question. "They actually did a study that showed that aluminum hits much further than wood and at much faster speeds. But there's something just inherently nostalgic about a wood bat."

"You don't play baseball," Derek pointed out. "You don't need a bat!"

"Actually, my dad and I used to go to the batting cages all the time," Stiles replied. "Chris wasn't so much a fan of baseball. I left my bat at my dad's house. I couldn't bring it with me when I moved."

"Werewolves make good pitchers," Derek said. A pang of guilt ran through him. It was moments like these that reminded Derek that Stiles was still just a kid who needed guidance and even a little bit of fun.

"Are you offering to play baseball with me?"

Derek shrugged. "Sure. Why not? If you can keep from killing someone for the next few days, maybe we can find some time to—"

Stiles cut Derek off. "Play fetch!"

Just like that, the moment Derek was trying to build with Stiles was gone.

A few hours later, they checked into a cheap hotel and Derek ordered pizza while Stiles was in the shower. He wanted to confess the real reason he was so hell-bent on protecting Stiles, but had no idea how to go about it.

"What's eating you?" Stiles asked.

"Nothing," Derek said.

Stiles frowned. "It'd be a lot easier to trust you if you didn't lie to me. I'm tired of being lied to. The Argents told me they had nothing to do with your family dying and they lied. Chris told me that our family always follows the Code. He lied, too. We might hate one another, but we can at least be honest."

"I don't hate you, Stiles…"

"I'm serious, Derek!"

"So am I." Derek couldn't bring himself to look at the young man. He couldn't risk seeing the vulnerability in Stiles' eyes. "I don't hate you. I care about you. I'm concerned about you. I don't hate you."

"You barely even know me," Stiles said. "You know nothing about me or my life. You keep making these mysterious-sounding phrases, but can you just drop them and admit they're a front for your well-deserved distrust of me and my family."

"I know more about you and your life than you might think," Derek said softly.

"Again with those mysterious phrases!"

"Alright," Derek said. "I'll stop using those 'mysterious phrases' as you call them if you'll drop the impervious tough-guy act."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Stiles said. "I think I've more than proven that I can take care of myself and that it's not an act."

"I will grant that you're a good Hunter," Derek said. "But that's not all you are." A loud knock at the door sent Stiles immediately into Hunter mode. He grabbed the bat and cast a nervous glance at Derek. "What is that for?"

"What if someone's trying to rob us?" Stiles asked.

"You're a serial killer and you're afraid someone might rob us?" Derek said, swallowing a smirk.

"It could happen… we  _are_  on the run, you know," Stiles reminded him, annoyed at how flippantly he was treating this situation.

Derek opened the door. A young boy in a blue Domino's shirt and hat was holding a large pizza. "Hello sir. It's $15.36."

Derek handed him a twenty. Stiles peeked around the door. The bat became visible to the delivery boy who inhaled sharply. "Just ignore him. He's slightly demented. Keep the change. Have a great night." He turned to Stiles as the door shut behind him. "Calm down, slugger. It's just dinner."

Stiles froze. That was a nickname his dad used on him.

Derek offered him a slice of pizza. They ate in silence before Derek said, "The rain is gonna stop for a few hours. Wanna go play some ball?"

Recognizing that Derek was attempting to be genuinely nice, Stiles stifled the obvious dog joke hidden there. "Sure," he said.

They drove to a park that was empty, most people having headed home already. Derek and Stiles stood a long distance apart and Derek threw the ball. Stiles hit it as hard as he could. Derek ran off, finding the ball, then throwing it again. The only noise that passed between them was the loud crack each time the bat made contact with the ball.

When Stiles' arms were finally sore from how many repetitions they'd done, he waved his arm, telling Derek not to throw it again. As they headed back to the car, Stiles smiled at Derek. "Thanks for that… it was a lot of fun."

Derek smiled back. "You're welcome." He went to open his car door, but stopped. "Stiles… I haven't been completely honest with you."

"You're going to say something that's going to ruin this, aren't you?" Stiles asked.

"You deserve to know," Derek replied.

Though Derek could tell he was choking back tears, Stiles laughed. "I should have known better than to put much stock in this. So what is it? You've contacted the Argents? You're using me as a hostage to get info on your family?" Derek stayed silent. "At least let me know if I'm getting warmer. Are you planning on biting me and turning me into your beta?"

"No," Derek said. "Nothing like that."

"Then what is it?"

"The night your father died," Derek began. He stared into space, trying to come up with the courage to finish what he started.

"Nothing you say will make me think differently of him. He left me to save some kid he didn't even know. Just drop it!" Stiles said, pulling on the door handle, but Derek had locked it with the remote.

"I can't drop this, Stiles. Everyone has lied to you about what really happened. Me included," Derek said. "Your father wasn't supposed to work that night. He technically had it off. I was scheduled to be the officer on duty. But that night was…"

Stiles looked up at him in realization. "That night was a full moon. Are you saying that you killed him?"

"Indirectly," Derek admitted. "That wasn't just any full moon. It was the Wolf Moon. It's the holiest day for my kind and especially my family. It's also the anniversary of the day that my family died. I asked if we could switch. I didn't want to have to work on a night that would be so painful to me. If I'd have worked that night, your father would be alive."

"You'd have been shot instead," Stiles said. Anger welled up in him. He saw red dots. He threw the bat aside ran over to Derek, throwing a powerful right hook into Derek's face. Pain exploded in his hand, but he didn't care. He grabbed Derek's shirt and tossed him to the ground. He knelt over Derek, punching him again and again. His arms were throbbing and his hands were covered with more of his own blood than Derek's, but Derek didn't fight back. Tears streamed down his face as blow after blow hit Derek. "You're using me to assuage your guilt you fucking animal!" Derek didn't deny it. "I spared your life and you're the reason I'm a fucking orphan. How fucking stupid can I be?"

When he finally stopped punching Derek, he was exhausted, but he was still shaking with rage. Derek was nearly healed from the injuries the young human caused him. "Stiles, there's nothing I can say that will make this better. And I don't blame you for hating me. But I have lived with that guilt since the day he died. I'm looking after you to try and make up for the fact that I even have to."

Stiles pulled one of the knives from its holster beneath his shirt. He never went anywhere without it. He held the blade to Derek's neck. "You don't have the right to say a God-damned thing to me, you fucking asshole! I'm tired of running. I wouldn't be on the run if I had just killed you."

"I don't blame you for being angry, Stiles," Derek said. "But killing me won't bring back your father."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Stiles screamed Derek's hand moved up, but Stiles quickly slashed at it, cutting it open. Derek roared in pain as the poison in the blade began working through his system. "I let you live when you signed my father's death warrant. I don't care if it will bring him back or not. You deserve to rot in Hell."

Derek still didn't fight. "Then by all means, if you think it will bring you closure, kill me. Just know that when it doesn't, I tried to warn you."

Stiles raised the knife, ready to plunge it into Derek's heart. The Alpha stared up, ready to accept his fate. As Stiles began the motion, he stopped just as the point of the blade hit Derek's skin. "My father didn't see his death coming. Neither will you." Stiles stood up, putting the blade back in its sheath and walked away.

"Stiles where are you going?" Derek called after him.

"It's none of your fucking business," Stiles replied. The thirst to kill bubbled up inside him. He shut his eyes tight because he wanted nothing more than to rip apart Derek Hale, but he needed to wait.

When he finally opened his eyes, he saw a homeless man sitting against a building. Stiles looked around, seeing nobody in the vicinity. He took the knife back out of its sheath before violently stabbing him over and over, pretending he was Derek. The man didn't yell or scream. As he struggled to catch his final breaths, he looked up at Stiles. He had eyes the same shade of green as Derek. "I forgive you, son," the man said with considerably noticeable strain.

"You shouldn't," Stiles replied coldly and slashed his throat.

It took him a while, but he managed to find his way back to the hotel. Derek smelled blood on him, but said nothing about it. Stiles went straight into the bathroom and washed his hands before changing into pajamas and climbing into the lumpy, uncomfortable bed. "Thank you for sparing my life," Derek said softly.

Stiles turned in the bed so that his back was to the werewolf. He couldn't stand to even look at him. "I didn't spare your life. I merely decided that when I kill you—and I will—that you will feel as pained and shocked as I was the day I was told he died… and then you'll feel it as I rip your heart out of your chest and show it to you. Assuming I don't decide to burn you instead. After all, it was good enough for the rest of the Hales."

"That was… morbidly vivid," Derek said. He knew that Stiles was searching for anything he could say to hurt him. He was young and upset. Derek didn't hold it against him.

"Shut the fuck up, crossbreed!" Stiles spat. "I told you not to fucking talk to me." The contempt in his voice seemed to poison the air in the room and Derek stepped outside.

Stiles didn't fall straight to sleep, though. His rage had finally melted into pain and sadness and he screamed into his pillow, weeping in a way he hadn't since his mother died. He wept for the years he'd spent hating his father. He wept for the lies he'd allowed himself to believe. He wept for the family he'd given up in his attempt to do the right thing. And last, and most surprisingly, he wept for the friendship he'd begun to form with Derek. When he couldn't cry any more, he finally fell asleep.

Derek quietly walked back into the room hours after he was certain Stiles was slumbering. He saw the young human shivering on top of his covers. Since the cold didn't bother him, he took the blanket from his own bed and gently covered him before lying down in his own bed and finally closing his eyes for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: So... that took a turn, didn't it? Let me know what you thought! I love reader feedback and it helps me update more quickly.


	4. Common Ground

Derek flipped through the stations, trying to find something that wasn't country music or advertisements. It was the only thing that could keep him awake since he and Stiles had now gone an entire week without talking, though it wasn't for Derek's lack of trying. They'd driven nearly nonstop simply because Derek didn't trust Stiles enough to keep from killing. But the fatigue was wearing on him and he could tell that Stiles knew, too. To add to his problem, he kept having to move the tourniquet up his arm, trying to stave off the poison from Stiles' blade. The lack of rest was making it impossible for him to heal.

"Can you control your bloodlust for a few hours so I can get some rest?" Derek asked. Stiles simply looked out the window without responding. Derek shook his head and sighed. "Look. If we're going to keep travelling together, we need to at least communicate."

"Go fuck yourself," Stiles spat. "How's that for communication?"

Derek shrugged. "It's an improvement. But it doesn't answer my question. Without rest and without the antidote to that poison, I'm going to die… and I won't be able to protect you from a grave."

"I. Don't. Need. Your. Protection," Stiles said. "From where I'm sitting, it's you who needs protection now."

Derek nodded, deciding that he should just give in and stroke Stiles' ego. "You're right. I do. I need to rest and I need to heal. I'm sure you don't want me to die from a mere scratch of your knives. I've seen you kill. You like to stare into your victims' eyes as you kill them. You make their deaths painful and deliberate."

"Are you in pain?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah," Derek replied. "But I've been in much worse pain than this."

Stiles rolled his eyes, still not looking in Derek's direction. "If you need to rest that badly, we can stop. I promise I won't kill you in your sleep."

"It isn't me I'm worried about you killing, Stiles. It's the innocent people you choose as your victims," Derek said.

Stiles laughed so hard he snorted. "Are you trying to say you're innocent? You killed my father!"

"You're starting to sound like a bad Inigo Montoya impression," Derek said cooly. "I wasn't trying to say that I'm innocent. I agree with you… I'm partly responsible for your father's death. We've established this. What we don't agree on is how we can continue travelling together if we don't talk."

"We're talking now," Stiles said.

"No," Derek corrected, exiting off the highway. "I'm talking and you're making snarky remarks and glaring out the window."

"Fuck you," Stiles said.

It was the most conversation they'd made in days, so Derek considered it progress. He pulled into yet another cheap motel. Derek went into the office and booked the room before pulling the car down to the opposite side of the building. It was more difficult carrying his luggage with the poison and fatigue sapping his strength, but he pushed on. Stiles followed several minutes later.

As he finally crawled onto the bed, he collapsed with an audible sigh, casting a nervous glance over to Stiles who rolled his eyes. "Get some rest. I won't kill you or anyone else while you're sleeping. I'll have the antidote ready for you when you wake up," he huffed.

"Thank you," Derek replied kindly.

"Don't think I'm doing this as a favor to you. You're just more useful to me alive right now," Stiles clarified.

Derek shook his head and closed his eyes. "Goodnight, Stiles."

"Night, mutt."

* * *

 

_**Argent Home, 4 days prior** _

Allison's arms remained crossed as she paced back and forth. Her mother eyed her carefully, though everyone else was focused on the old man sitting on the couch. "Traditionally, it is the women who make the decisions in our family," he said, looking pointedly at his granddaughter.

"And my decision is that I want my brother back!" Allison said.

"But what does your gut tell you?" he urged.

"That he's missing and he needs our help!"

"No," Gerard said. "That's what your heart tells you. What about your gut?"

"He wouldn't abandon me like that. He wouldn't abandon us! We're his family!" Allison said, finally stopping. Victoria's hawk-like stare moved to her father-in-law.

"There is not a drop of Argent blood in his veins, Allison," Gerard said. "And Stiles was a very skilled young Hunter. He was taught by the very best family there is. And he took us for suckers."

"He wouldn't do that!" Allison argued.

"He's a threat to all of us. If the rest of the Hunters find out that an Argent has gone rogue, they'll come after us," Kate said. "We need to find him and find Derek… and kill them both."

Chris' head turned so fast his neck cracked loudly. "How could you say that? This is Stiles we're talking about. He's been a part of our family for years. We won't hunt him down and execute him like some common werewolf!"

"He's a liability now, Chris!" Gerard reasoned. "Victoria? What do you say?"

Breaking her stoic silence for the first time in the discussion, Victoria's voice was calm and even. "We take Derek down. But if you lay a hand on my son, you won't have to worry about other Hunters because I'll kill you myself."

* * *

 

Stiles sat in his bed, staring at the sleeping werewolf. He envisioned how he would finally kill the beast as he prepared the antidote that would save Derek's life for now. He decided that when he finally  _did_  kill Derek, he was going to behead him with a dull hatchet.

He spent hours watching the beast sleep. Black goo was seeping from the wound in Derek's palm, and the veins up Derek's arm was running black, highlighted by the increasingly pale pallor he was taking as the poison slowly worked its way through his body. A week had already passed and Stiles knew that Derek didn't have much more time before the tourniquet, and even the antidote, would be too little far too late. Stiles decided he would let Derek sleep for a little while longer before waking him up to administer the medicine.

When he had finally finished the medicine, Stiles still wasn't tired. He was still far too angry to sleep. He grabbed the key and scrawled a note.

_Don't wet yourself. I'll be back to walk you in a bit. Medicine is on the nightstand._

He placed the note on his pillow and headed out, turning down the long walkway toward the ice machine and vending machines. He fished a few quarters out of his pocket and popped them into the coin slot before actually taking a chance to survey the dismal selection. He wondered how long any of these items had actually been in the machine. Instantly he ruled out chips and pretzels. He decided to go with a pack of skittles, reasoning that since they were entirely chemical, they'd likely hold up to time. He punched in the number and watched as the spiral twisted, releasing the pack that fell forward, getting lodged between the shelf and the glass.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Stiles groaned, hitting the glass. It barely budged. He hit it again, repeatedly. "I will not be outsmarted by a bag of shitty candy!"

A handsome man not too much older than Stiles approached. He had slightly sun-kissed skin, suggesting he was from much warmer and sunnier parts than the rainy, gloom of the Pacific Northwest. His shoulder-length brown hair softened what would otherwise be chiseled facial features. His build was more overtly muscular than Stiles' was, but it definitely worked in his favor. "Sometimes it helps if you do this…" He reared his shirt-wrapped hand back and punched it against the glass, causing it to shatter. The bag of skittles fell among the shards. The man reached down and picked it up, handing it to Stiles, purposely allowing their fingers to touch. Stiles glanced down at their hands before turning his eyes back to the man's face. "If you're feeling hungry, you should go ahead and take what you want," the man suggested.

Stiles grabbed another pack of skittles. "Thank you," he said.

"My name's Gray," the man replied. "Who are you?"

"I'm Stiles," he replied. He wasn't sure why, but he was enthralled by this man.

Gray moved as though he were about to talk and then paused. "I'm sorry, forgive me if this is too forward, but I think you're incredibly attractive." Stiles smiled. It had been so long since he'd been paid any sort of affectionate attention. And travelling with Derek made taking care of certain physical needs nearly impossible.

"So Stiles?" Gray asked. "That's… interesting."

Stiles chuckled. "It's a nickname. Most people can't pronounce my actual name."

Gray extended his arm, allowing his fingers to caress Stiles' cheek. "This might also be somewhat forward of me…" he said before leaning forward and kissing Stiles who melted into it. When the kiss ended, Gray whispered, "I have a few hours to kill. Maybe I could kill them with you…"

Stiles backed up. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Oh," Gray replied, his face falling. "I just…"

"I'm just passing through," Stiles said. "I'm travelling with someone."

" _Oh_ ," Gray said.

"It's not like that," Stiles clarified. "I really can't stand him."

"Then why travel with him?"

Stiles shrugged. "We need each other." It took a moment to dawn on Stiles how easily he was able to admit this simple fact to a complete stranger. Right that very minute, a few doors away, Derek was sleeping in a bed, dying from a poison inflicted by one of his knives. And Stiles needed companionship. He needed someone to know what he was doing and to recognize that he was in pain without condemning him for it. He had that in Derek.

"Well where is he?" Gray asked, snapping Stiles out of his thoughts.

"In our hotel room sleeping."

"Well, since we're both just passing through… do you want to go back to my room and kill those hours in a far more pleasurable way than just watching awful movies on HBO?" Gray asked again.

Stiles was losing his resolve to resist, but he needed to make sure Derek got that medicine. "Alright… but no more than two hours…"

Gray winked. "It will be a struggle, but I think I can deal with that."

* * *

 

_**Café in Beacon Hills, 4 days prior** _

"Victoria was serious, Dad," Kate said, sipping her coffee. "She's the head of the family right now. We can't touch Stiles."

"She's not thinking like a Hunter, Kate," Gerard replied. "She's thinking like a mother. But she's not his mother."

"It just doesn't feel right. I liked Stiles. He's a good kid," Kate said.

"Are you telling me you're backing out?" Gerard said, his voice becoming severe.

"No. I'm just saying that maybe we should outsource this one to someone not as close to the target as we are," she replied.

"You're getting soft, Kate," Gerard noted.

"The fact of the matter is: we don't know whether or not he betrayed us. He lived and trained with our family for years and was legally adopted by Chris and Victoria."

"You've developed sentiment toward him," Gerard said. "It's not a bad thing. But it means that you're right. We're going to have to outsource this."

"So you really want to exterminate Stiles?" Kate asked.

"I see no difference between killing him and killing a werewolf. You killed an entire family of werewolves and humans," Gerard reminded her.

"I know that!" Kate snapped.

Gerard sighed. He could tell that he would need to handle this situation himself. "I know some people. There's a guy I can get to do it. Stiles will die quick and happy."

* * *

 

Stiles' mouth crashed against Gray's as they frantically pulled their clothes off. Gray pushed Stiles against a wall before turning him around, allowing his erection to press against Stiles' butt. "What are you doing?" Stiles asked.

"What does it look like?" Gray teased, nibbling at Stiles' ear.

Stiles chuckled before using a disarming method to switch their positions. "You were operating under the assumption that I'm a bottom, which I definitely am not."

Gray grinned. "Forgive me for assuming. A sexy little twink like you…"

"Yeah… no."

"Aren't you full of surprises," Gray chuckled.

_You have no idea_ , Stiles thought. He considered channeling the Praying Mantis and murdering Gray once their hookup was done. Then he remembered: he promised Derek that tonight would be a no-kill night. Derek would know, too. He'd smell the blood… and the sex.

"Do you have a condom?" Stiles asked. Gray nodded. "What about lube?"

"I don't travel anywhere without it. Not in the age of Grindr," Gray said. Stiles tore the condom package open with his teeth while Gray rummaged through his belongings, grabbing the bottle of lube, handing it to Stiles. "Just be careful…"

"I was going to fuck you as hard as I could," Stiles said. "I figured you could take it, being a big, strong man and all. I didn't realize you were a pussy."

"I didn't say you couldn't fuck me hard," Gray replied, turned on even more by the dominant streak that had been brought out in his companion. "It's just been a while since I've been fucked. I'm going need you to start slow and work up."

Stiles rolled his eyes and whispered "Wimp…" as he rolled the condom onto his dick. He shoved a lubed finger into Gray, slowly adding more fingers until he had stretched the man enough to be able to take his sizeable erection. He squirted some more lube into his hand and coated his dick in it, grabbing Gray's ankles and pushing them up to his head. He stared intensely into Gray's bright green eyes. They reminded him somewhat of Derek's human eyes. He moaned as he shook the thought of the mongrel sleeping several doors down out of his head. He didn't want Derek to be any part of this. Gray scratched the sheets as Stiles worked to a mutually pleasurable pace.

It didn't take long for him to fill the condom with several weeks' worth of sexual frustration. He pulled out and collapsed beside Gray who was feverishly stroking himself to climax. He covered his chest with thick globs of semen and glanced over at Stiles. "That was amazing."

"I'm glad you enjoyed," Stiles smirked. "Just give me a few minutes and we can go again…"

"I'm gonna go wash this off," Gray said. He kissed Stiles before getting up and heading into the bathroom. Stiles heard the water run for several minutes before he saw the light go off and Gray emerged, holding a pistol, his lower body covered by a towel wrapped tightly around his slender waist.

"I'm not really into that kind of kink," Stiles said dismissively, suddenly hyper-aware of his lack of weaponry.

"No," Gray said. "You're just into werewolves, aren't you?"

Stiles struggled to make his reaction seem natural. He slid out of the bed, trying to pull on his clothes. "Listen. I don't want any trouble. You're obviously off your meds or something. I'd reconsider that life choice if I were you. This has been fun but… I'm going to go now."

"Stop right there," Gray ordered, cocking the gun. "I'm going to kill you… then I'm going to kill your little travel buddy. Or should I do that in the reverse order and make you watch him die?"

"Nobody kills him but me!" Stiles said.

"Then why haven't you done it yet?"

Stiles stopped. "Who sent you?"

Gray smiled. "They told me you were smart… they said you were a very skilled Hunter. And yet… I have you here nearly naked… no weapons… helpless. You're pathetic."

"I don't have my weapons with me, but I'm certainly not helpless," Stiles said. He had made up the 'Argents are after us' story to get Derek to take him away from Beacon Hills. He knew of another family, however, the Calaveras, who would think nothing of killing him to maintain the code. Stiles grabbed the blanket off the bed, throwing it over Gray and tightening it around his head as he tried to get the gun out of his hand. He bashed Gray's hand against the wall, feeling bones grind against one another and eliciting a cry of pain from the man. "Who sent you?"

Gray's voice was muffled and nearly suffocated by the blanket. "The Argents send their regards."

"You stole that from Game of Thrones!" Stiles accused. "Nothing about you is original. And you're a mediocre lay." He grabbed the gun and punched Gray in the stomach before bringing his knee up into what he figured might have been his assailant's face. "I promised Derek I wouldn't kill tonight so I'll let you take this ass-kicking as a warning. Don't fuck with me." He gathered the rest of his clothes and ran down to their hotel room, struggling to get the key in the lock. Finally, he heard Derek open it. He looked healthy. It seemed as though he found the medicine.

"Stiles? Are you alright?"

"We need to leave… now!"

Derek rolled his eyes. "One night of no killing. That's all I asked…"

"I didn't kill anyone you asshole!" Stiles yelled back. "Someone tried to kill me!"

"I'm sorry for assuming," Derek said. "But given your history…"

Stiles glared at him. "Shut the fuck up and get your stuff together! He's going to find us."

In moments, they had their belongings packed up and were running into the car. Gray shot at their rear bumper, but Derek peeled out of the parking lot and out of range. Stiles stared out the windshield. "They actually tried to have me killed…"

"What?" Derek asked.

"The Argents. They sent Gray to kill me."

"Why do you sound shocked? That's literally the whole reason we're on the run," Derek said.

Stiles fought the tears that were building within him. "I lied. They would have given me more training. They would have killed  _you_."

Derek was annoyed, but hid it well. Stiles didn't need a lecture. He needed understanding. "Why did you lie?"

"Because I follow the Code. At the time, I thought you were innocent and should be spared. I knew I wouldn't be able to reason with them about it," Stiles said. The first of the tears spilled onto his cheek. "I can't believe they'd have me killed…"

Derek put his hand awkwardly on Stiles' shoulder. "I'm really sorry, Stiles…"

Stiles pointedly moved Derek's hand. "I don't need your pity."

Derek moved his hand back to the steering wheel, driving in silence yet again. After several hours, Stiles finally spoke. "I'm hungry. Can we stop for food?"

"Sure" Derek replied.

They pulled into a parking lot for yet another diner. After they ordered, Stiles looked at Derek. "They want me dead. I've got nobody anymore…"

"That's not entirely true," Derek pointed out.

"Gray doesn't count. We had sex and then he tried to kill me!"

"We've all been there," Derek said.

Stiles froze. He forgot that Kate had done that to Derek when he had been about the same age. "I guess we finally have something in common."

Derek frowned. "Stiles, I know you're miserable. And you can take care of yourself. Do you  _want_  to travel alone?"

Stiles shook his head. "Gray is going to come after you, too."

"If he does, I'll handle him. I just don't want you to feel like my prisoner or something," Derek said.

Stiles' gaze seemed unfocused. "When I was with Gray, he was asking me lots of questions about you and us. He asked me why I travel with you even though I hate you."

Derek was used to hearing Stiles say how much he hated him. He no longer even winced at the harshness of that word. "What did you tell him?"

"That we need each other," Stiles said. Derek's brow arched in confusion. "It's true though. My sentiment toward you doesn't change the fact that you and I are all each other has. I've planned how I'm going to kill you but I don't know if I even want to because then who will I have?"

"We could become friends, you know," Derek suggested.

Stiles shook his head. "I'm still so angry with you for what you did. I don't know that I'll ever be able to forgive you."

"So where do we go from here?" Derek asked.

"I don't know," Stiles replied. "Gray is going to come after us. When he does, I'll kill him… and who knows who else I'll kill between now and then?"

"If Gray tries to kill us, we can defend ourselves. But I still can't condone killing innocents, Stiles," Derek said.

"I'm not asking you to," Stiles replied. "I'm just asking you to leave me alone when it comes to that. I'll take care of disposing of the bodies on my own. I just  _need_  to kill. Can you accept that?"

Derek shook his head. "Honestly, no. But I won't abandon you. So… I guess I'll help you kill. But we need rules. We only kill those who deserve it."

"I'm no Dexter," Stiles said. "I've always just killed the first person I saw after I got the urge to kill. It makes us harder to track."

"Then we make the deaths quick and painless. We make it so they never see it coming," Derek said.

"Alright," Stiles agreed. Though he didn't say anything, he was looking forward to his first kill with Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought of this chapter!


	5. Promise Kept

The anxiety rolling off of Stiles was impossible not to notice. Derek tried rolling the window down, but it didn't help. Finally, he spoke up. "Stiles? What's wrong?"

"I need you to stop somewhere… Preferably populated," Stiles replied.

"Why?"

"Because I need to kill," Stiles replied.

Derek stayed silent. "And if I don't?"

"Just do it, Derek," Stiles urged. "Killing is the only thing that can relax me now. You know that."

"Or you could learn other coping techniques," Derek said flatly.

"You said you'd help me kill! Why are you being so judgy right now? I'm trying to convince you to bring me somewhere I can kill someone…"

"I know that. Why do you think I'm trying to get you to choose a different option?"

Stiles balled up his fist and beat it angrily against the door. "Derek, just once… make something easy for me. Pull off at the next exit."

"Or what?"

"Or the only person around me to kill is you," Stiles said.

"You've been saying how much you want to kill me since you found out about…" Derek's voice trailed off. He didn't want to actually say the words. "Here's your chance, Stiles."

"Don't do this," Stiles pleaded.

"Why not?" Derek asked. "It will save you a lot of bullshit later."

"You're the only person I have, Derek. Whether I like it or not… I'm stuck with you," Stiles finally admitted.

"Are you saying you don't hate me?" Derek asked with a smug grin affixed to his face. "Are we… dare I say it… becoming friends?"

"I tolerate you at best and right now, I'm begging you," Stiles said. "Please pull off and let me do this."

Derek shook his head, the smug grin turning into a goofy smile. "Nope. I think I'm growing on you. Just try deep breathing. In through your nose and out through your mouth. We're halfway through Montana. Just hold off the urge a little longer."

"You promised you'd kill with me," Stiles said. Derek could smell blood. A quick glance showed him that Stiles was squeezing his hands so tightly his fingernails were breaking the skin of his palms. The human's pulse was skyrocketing.

"Stiles, just breathe," Derek repeated, his voice becoming more urgent. "Learn to control the impulse. Killing isn't necessary."

"I'm not your beta, Derek. Don't treat me like I am," Stiles managed to say through gritted teeth.

"You're bigger than this. You can control it," Derek repeated. His hand moved to Stiles' knee, trying to comfort him. He was prepared to draw off some of the pain and anxiety if needed in order to make Stiles a little less anxious.

Traffic was moving slowing down. Stiles' hand moved out of Derek's sight for just a moment before he said, "And maybe one day I will learn to. But today, you're just going to have to forgive me for this."

"What do you mean?" Derek asked.

Stiles flipped open his switch-blade and stabbed it into Derek's hand. Derek retracted with a howl of pain and Stiles quickly unbuckled his seat belt and jumped out of the car, being sure to tuck his limbs in and roll, as to avoid getting too hurt. Cars honked their horns at him as Derek struggled to regain control of his car and managed to bring it safely to a stop. Blood stained the center console and seats, but the wound was healed in moments. Stiles, however, ran. He felt as though he were in a live-action game of Frogger as he made his way to the safety of the grassy plains to either side of the highway they'd been driving on and began running. He knew Derek would eventually catch up to him and he'd deal with the fallout of what he'd just done, but that could wait until after he'd sated his thirst to kill.

Derek wanted him to kill only people who deserved it. Since he'd stabbed Derek in order to escape, he figured the least he could do was follow the one rule Derek had set forth. The only problem was that he was in the middle of nowhere in Montana. The definition Derek established of who "deserved" to die might need to be stretched. The rural town in which Stiles found himself didn't seem to have a crime report that would consist of anything more severe than jaywalking.

People smiled at him despite the fact that he felt he stuck out amid the locals. His heart raced as he searched for someone to kill. He had some money on him and bought a newspaper and decided to check himself into a motel. He laid out his highly limited arsenal on the bed. He polished his knives and cleaned Derek's blood from his switchblade. His stomach growled so he ordered a pizza. He had no more cash, but he had a credit card. He knew it was dumb to use it, but desperate times…

He strapped the knives underneath his shirt and waited for the pizza. He found his mind frequently drifting from the rather dismal crime beat. Most of the people who had been arrested were for public intoxication or drunk and disorderly conduct. His eyes trailed from the newspaper to his phone. Derek hadn't tried to get ahold of him yet. But he didn't want to talk to Derek. He'd talked to Derek enough. There was only one person he wanted to talk to. One person he truly missed, but calling her would be a gamble.

The phone seemed to be a relic in comparison to the one that was smashed to pieces on the side of a road on the night he and Derek ran away. It had only two contacts. Derek insisted that his number be programmed in case they were separated involuntarily. The other number he programmed from memory in secret. A foolish, childish part of him hoped the name would appear on his screen in the form of an incoming call, but he chastised himself for such longings. It would be impossible because Allison wouldn't know the number attached to that phone.

Every one of the Hunter instincts he had trained and honed told him to cease what he was doing as his hand drifted over to the phone, picking it up. It was a cold brick in his hand. But it was a portal to warmth and understanding. Allison was a fellow hunter. Surely  _she_  of all people would understand. His breath and fingers shook as he brought it to his ear. He counted each ring. The knot in his stomach became increasingly tense with each successive one, the voice of self-preservation in his head was screaming at him to hang up.

"Hello?" came Allison's confused voice at the moment Stiles' thumb was poised to end the connection. Stiles tried to respond, but the lump that formed in his throat caught the words he was trying to form. "Hello?" she repeated. "Is anyone there?"

Stiles swallowed hard. "Allie," he said softly. "It's good to hear your voice."

"Stiles?" she asked. "Is it really you?"

"Yeah," Stiles replied. "It's me. I'm so sorry…"

"Are you safe?" she asked.

Stiles didn't know how to answer that question. He didn't know how much she knew. "I… I'm alright, I guess," he said.

"Did Derek hurt you?" she asked.

"No," Stiles replied. He stayed silent for several moments prompting her to ask if he was still there. "Yeah… I… you trust me, right?"

"Of course, Stiles. Mom, Dad, and I just want you home," she said. "We miss you so much."

"You might," Stiles said. "But I was nearly killed by an assassin who said he was sent by the Argents."

"That's impossible," Allison said. "Mom made it perfectly clear that you weren't supposed to be harmed in any way… only Derek if he didn't give us information on how to bring you home."

"Derek didn't kidnap me, Allie," Stiles replied. "I went with him willingly."

Stiles heard the sharp intake of breath on her end. "Why? He's a werewolf… he's a murderer."

"He is… but not for the reasons you think," Stiles said. He couldn't believe he was defending Derek Hale.

"Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent!" Allison said.

"I know that. But the only person he's responsible for killing is my dad," Stiles said. "And I'm going to make him pay for that."

"Then do it and come home," Allison pleaded. "I need my best friend again… I need my brother."

"I can't come home, Allie," Stiles said. "Not after what I've done…"

"What do you mean?"

"Not all killers have claws." A sharp rap on the door startled him. "I've got to go. I love you, Allison. Let our parents know I'm safe. But I can't come home."

"Stiles don't—" she started, but Stiles hung up.

As he looked through the peep hole, he saw a man holding a pizza box. A hat and sunglasses shielded his face from view. He made sure his knives were concealed beneath his shirt before slowly opening the door. "That was fast," he commented.

"I always try to be speedy with my services," the man replied. Stiles thought the phrasing was strange, but went to take the pizza box. The man grabbed his wrist. "A credit card, Stiles? I would have thought you'd be smarter than that."

"Let me go and I'll let you live," Stiles replied, immediately realizing who he was dealing with. "Because you're not going to have the privilege of seeing me without my weapons twice."

"I've got a lot of money riding on you," Gray said.

"That's not the only thing you've had riding on me," Stiles said with a grin.

"Really? Don't you have a werewolf to fuck?" Gray asked.

"I tend not to fuck animals," Stiles replied. "You were the only exception I made. Now I'll ask you once more to let me go or we're going to have a serious problem." Gray shoved Stiles hard, causing him to lose his balance as he tumbled backwards on the bed. Stiles' heart raced. He knew he needed to think clearly. Gray jumped on top of him, a gun pointed to the spot between Stiles' eyebrows. Stiles trembled in fear. Never before had he ever been so close to death. "Gray… please don't kill me yet," he whimpered. "Please just let me have something good before it's all over…"

Gray's lips parted in a smile so sinister it chilled Stiles to the bone. "So first we bang and then…" Gray caressed the barrel of his gun, studying it for a second before putting it against Stiles' temple. He leaned forward and kissed Stiles deeply, probingly. He kissed Stiles in a way that made the hunter feel penetrated and used. When the kiss was over, Gray stared into Stiles' fearful brown eyes and smiled again. He pressed the gun more forcefully into Stiles' temple, grinning wider as he watched Stiles squirm beneath him. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Bang."

* * *

Derek drove through the town searching for somewhere—anywhere—Stiles might have gone to. He knew Stiles' purpose was to kill and sate his ever-growing thirst for blood. And despite the fact that he knew it was a dangerous way to obtain the information he sought, he finally pulled into the local Sheriff's office. His hand had completely healed from the stab wound. He had already forgiven Stiles for what he did. Though he was human, Stiles had the restraint of an untrained Beta. He needed to be taught and guided. He needed to be shown compassion and understanding. Both of these things Derek was willing to offer. Stiles just wasn't ready to accept them. Derek didn't even know if Stiles knew how.

As an officer of the law, he felt a sense of familiarity as he walked into the office, though admittedly it felt strange being on the other side of the information desk. The deputy who greeted him smiled politely. "How can I help you, sir?"

Derek flashed his badge. "I know I'm a little ways from home and entirely out of my jurisdiction, but I'm investigating a murder and I was wondering if any bizarre activity has been reported here in the last few hours."

The deputy gasped. "You're investigating the Pacific Ripper… I thought that was FBI territory."

"It is," Derek said. He held his cool, not letting show the fact that he had no idea the FBI had gotten involved. It made sense, though. "I am just helping out on the case."

The deputy tapped some buttons on her computer. "Nothing in the last few months. I'm sorry. This is a small town. The most action we get here is drunk and disorderly in nature."

"Thank you," Derek said. "Now a personal question. Is there a hotel or something I can stay in?"

"We've only got one. Don't get many visitors and all," she replied, writing down directions. Derek thanked her and returned to the car. He needed rest. He knew Stiles wouldn't get too far and he'd be able to resume his search when he could look at the situation with a clear and well-rested head.

* * *

Though every action was consensual, the gun remained on the bedside table, serving as a reminder that both parties weren't going to leave that room alive. Stiles still wasn't certain who it was, and as such, he decided that he'd allow himself to indulge in the most simple pleasure he could. Neither had condoms available to him, but Stiles didn't care. As Gray scratched at the sheets beneath him, Stiles continued thrusting hard yet sensually. When he finally came, he collapsed onto Gray. "My turn," Gray said. He didn't actually gain any pleasure from being fucked. He preferred to fuck. "I want the last thing you feel before my bullet blasts through your brain to be my load shooting into you." Stiles pulled out and the two of them jostled positions. Stiles started to lay on his stomach, but Gray stopped him. "I want to see the look in your eyes."

"Please be careful," Stiles begged. "I've never…"

Gray shoved several fingers into Stiles, who whimpered and squirmed beneath him. Gray then lifted Stiles' legs onto his shoulders and studied every movement, every motion, and every bit of strain until he was all the way inside Stiles. Gray worked up to a faster pace and Stiles squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. "Do you wish I was your Alpha?" Gray asked. "Are you imagining that I'm Derek Hale fucking you for the first time?"

"I don't fuck werewolves," Stiles said through gritted teeth. Gray kissed Stiles again, moving the Hunters hunter's hands so that they rested sensually along his waist, seemingly guiding the pace as he continued fucking into him. "It hurts," Stiles complained.

"Learn to enjoy it," Gray replied. "It's the last thing you'll feel."

Stiles was still unsure how he'd be able to survive. Gray made sure to put his knives far away from him and the gun was closer to Gray than it was to his own grasp. "Then will you fuck me again after you're done. Because right now this is probably one of the most painful things I've ever felt."

"You're stalling," Gray noted, pushing as far into Stiles as he could, causing the hunter to cry out in pain. "It felt like that when you fucked me. Both times."

"Then please just shoot me and get it over with," Stiles said.

"I might fuck you again," Gray said. "But you'll already be dead when I do."

* * *

Derek checked into the hotel. As he reclined on the bed, he could feel the stress melting away. It felt good to not be in the car, as much as he loved his Camaro. There weren't many people checked into the hotel, so the normal clatter that he had come to rely on to help himself relax was unavailable to him. He could hear a couple arguing about how they were going to pay for their car to get fixed so they could "get the hell out of this town." And then there was a room that continuously spoke in muffled voices. But if he concentrated hard enough, he could have sworn he heard his name mentioned. It seemed far-fetched, but he decided to check it out before he fell asleep. He grabbed the key-card and slipped it in his pocket.

As he turned down the hallway, he again focused his hearing. He became certain it was Stiles' voice.

* * *

Despite saying he wouldn't, Gray  _did_  fuck Stiles once more. Stiles was surprised to feel that it didn't hurt as much. And in fact, it actually felt pretty good. "He loves you, you know," Gray said between kisses.

"He killed my dad," Stiles replied. "I don't want to talk about this. Just fuck me."

"It's alright," Gray said. "You'll be dead soon enough. I'm almost done."

Surely enough, Stiles felt him come. A loud rap on the door forced both of them to look that direction. "Stiles? Are you in there? It's me, Derek." After several seconds passed, "I'm not mad at you. I just want to talk."

"You should answer that. I'm certain he's going to want to talk to you one last time before you die," Gray said. "Being in love with you and all." He pulled out of Stiles and grabbed his gun and a small bag. "Mountain Ash so that Derek won't get in my way once he's in here."

Stiles sat up and tried to pull on clothes, but Gray knocked them out of his hands. "I need to get dressed."

"No you don't," Gray replied. "I want you to show him what he'll never get to have… I want him to see what I took from him."

"Don't do this," Stiles begged. "Please. Whatever the Argents are offering you, Derek could give you more."

Gray grabbed his gun and put it to Stiles' chest. "Go answer the door."

Stiles opened the door. Gray stood behind it, the gun aimed firmly at Stiles' head. "Hey Derek…"

"Invite him in," Gray whispered.

"For the record, I can hear you behind the door. Stiles whatever danger you're in, I can get you out of it," Derek promised.

Gray moved out into the open. "Come inside," he ordered. Derek did, wanting to do nothing that would endanger Stiles' life any further. Derek smelled the sex on them. The look on his face made him wonder how consensual it was, which was why the moment he was within reach, he grabbed Gray's throat and lifted him off the floor. Gray raised the gun in Stiles' direction.

Derek shifted, his eyes glowing red, his face contorted in rage in such a manner that made Stiles truly afraid. "Drop it and your death will be painless. Harm him in any way and your death will be so slow and agonizing that you'll crave a bullet through your brain more than you do oxygen in your lungs, but I'll make sure you have to simply ride it out. Now drop the fucking gun!"

Gray whimpered in fear as he let go of the gun. It fell to the floor and Stiles picked it up. "Derek what are you doing?" Stiles asked.

"Tying up a loose end," Derek said. "And keeping a promise." He squeezed his hand tightly, cutting off oxygen. Gray's handsome face went red. With one powerful jerk of his arm, Stiles heard the bones that hadn't already been crushed snap in one loud, sickening moment. Stiles had never been sickened by watching a person die before, but as Derek let go of the body, it crumpled to the floor in a heap. "I promised I'd help you with your next kill." He turned around to face Stiles, shifting back. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah…" Stiles replied. "I'll be okay."

"I can smell him inside you," Derek said. "So I'm going to ask… I'd prefer you be honest with me. Did he rape you?"

"No," Stiles said softly. "It was consensual. He said he planned on fucking my body after he killed me, though."

Derek sighed and pulled Stiles into a caring hug. It felt alien and bizarre for both of them, especially considering Stiles was still naked. "Please don't ever run away like that again. Despite how you feel about me, I  _do_  care about you, Stiles. From now on, if you want to kill, I'll let you kill. But I'm only going to kill to protect you."

Stiles pulled away from him. "I've said it before… My care for you only goes so far as I don't have anyone else to rely on. I still can't move past what you did to my father. I need to get dressed. And we need to take care of his body."

Derek sat on the bed as he waited, knowing that Stiles had just lied to him. Stiles cared. He just couldn't—or wouldn't, Derek was unsure as to which—admit how he truly felt about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Sorry about the long wait! I hope it was worth it. Let me know what you thought about this chapter!


End file.
